


Same Kind Of Different

by WynnLo



Series: Baby I'm Yours [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: A sliver of smut at the end, Established Relationship, F/F, Jealous Miranda, pregnant Andrea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 17:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17833289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynnLo/pseuds/WynnLo
Summary: Now, she and Andrea’s age difference had never been a determining factor of whether they’d be together indefinitely. It was never a question. They both knew (without it ever being said) that they would get married at some point. Really, nothing more made sense to Miranda, and she was sure Andrea felt the same. But in a world such as theirs, not everyone would be understanding or, far less, accepting of their relationship.And now a baby was involved.





	Same Kind Of Different

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the movie Same Kind Of Different As Me directed by Michael Carney.

 

º

Miranda had been circling the rim of a wine glass with a single finger, head thrown back in laughter as she regarded the woman at the other end of the table.

“I’m serious!” Her companion fought to contain her own laughter.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you aren’t, Jackie.” Miranda took a slow sip of her wine. “You’re as awful as they come.”

“Oh, come on! How was I supposed to know his grandmother was in the next room? Plus, he was being just as loud as I was!”

“You were at the woman’s house.” Miranda deadpanned. “At 3AM in the morning. Where else would she be at such a time?”

“He never said whose house it was!” Jackie scoffed. “Either way –the woman’s ninety-three years old. She should be tone deaf at this point.”

“But she’s not. And she’s certainly not blind.”

Jackie shrugged. “Well, I’m sure she’s seen a lot worse.”

“I highly doubt that…” Miranda mumbled into her glass.  

“Hey, waiter!” Jacqueline shot up from her seat. “Another bottle for me and my friend here. And bring out another platter of those little prawns, will you.”

In the dimly lit restaurant, Miranda’s head swam in a delightful way. She and one of her good friends, Jacqueline Follet, were apparently about to work their way through their third bottle of Italy’s finest at one of the nicest eateries in New York City.

“ _God_ , he has a nice ass.” Jackie bit her bottom lip as she re-took her seat. “Look at him go.”

“Your intemperance is astounding.” Miranda murmured in amusement. “And you ought to be twice his age, dear.”

“Says the forty-eight-year-old woman who married the twenty-something-year-old journalist,” Jackie snorted. “How is Andrea by the way? Still keeping you in line and gorgeous as ever I’d hope?”

At the mention of her wife, Miranda’s features shifted from a look of pride, contentment and finally settled on one of guilt.

Just then, their waiter reappeared with the other requested bottle of wine and a dish of seafood.

“Now, _that’s_ what I’m talking about,” Jackie exclaimed while rubbing her hands maniacally before popping the cork. She topped their glasses off.

“I think this will be my last,” Miranda sighed. “However, to answer your question, Andrea’s doing quite well.” The editor pursed her lips. “She’s in her third trimester now, so we’ve only two months left before the baby comes…”

“You seemed thrilled,” Jackie replied sarcastically.

“I am.” Miranda pressed. Although, her tongue grew heavy in her mouth with all that she left unsaid.

“What about the girls, hm?” Jackie bit into a prawn. “Are they excited to be having a little brother soon?”

“Oh, most definitely.” Miranda took another sip of wine. “Last night I came home to them arguing over names while trying to find ‘the most perfect color’ for the nursery.”

Jackie smiled at that. “They’ll make great big sisters.”

“Yes. They will,” Miranda hummed, “But I don’t doubt for a second that they’ll run at the first sight of a dirty diaper.” Miranda snickered. “ _Especially_ Cassidy.”

 

 º

 

Half an hour went by and the remainder of their wine went with it. Going against her word, Miranda had indulged in two glasses more and it was now safe to say that they were both sufficiently drunk. Their faces were both flushed red due to their intoxication as they laughed themselves weak about everything and nothing at all.

“I think I…” Jackie hiccupped. “I think that waiter’s gonna get lucky tonight.” The woman un-popped a button on her blouse and readjusted her bra so that her breasts were stood at attention on her chest.

“Oh, _please_.” Miranda snorted in a way that was very unlike herself. “You are beyond ridiculous if you believe something will transpire between the two of you.”

“You think so?” Her friend gave her a drunken, yet challenging smile. “You willing to put money on that, Priestly?”

A witty retort got caught in Miranda’s throat as she had an incoming call from Emily. She declined it.

 

º

 

Twenty minutes later and she’d had five missed calls from her assistant that went unnoticed as her inebriation made it all too easy to silence the device.

“So, you’re really prepared to lose two-grand when I leave with my new lover here tonight?” Jackie’s eyes twinkled in amusement as she gazed at the waiter standing across the room. “My god, I’ve never seen someone wear an apron so _well_.”

And Miranda had to say, she admired her friend’s confidence. However, “I really think you should reconsider this silly notion of yours. Really. You’ll save yourself both your money as well as your dignity.” She stifled a yawn. It must be the wine. Her eyelids felt about as heavy as the wings of a plane.

Meanwhile, Jacqueline’s gaze had travelled to just over Miranda’s shoulder. And suddenly a devilish grin appeared on her face. “Really? You don’t think I stand a chance?” She finally looked directly at her friend.

“No. You don’t.” The editor said, “You’ll only make a fool out of yourself.”

“And I figure you know all about taking a millennial to bed, hm?”

Miranda stuttered. “Excuse me?”

Jackie went on teasingly. “Tell me, Rindy. Between you and Andy, which of you made the first move?”

“Well,” Miranda seemed uncertain for a moment. “Andrea did.”

Whether it was a lie or the truth, Jackie couldn’t tell. But whichever it was, her friend decided to go with it.

The editor nodded, “In the beginning of it all, she was the one to pursue me. At first I’d made it clear to her that it would never happen–”

“And yet here you are.”

“–I’d told her it was ludicrous to even consider a relationship between the two of us, and yet she persisted.”

“Is that so?” A voice sounded from behind Miranda.

And just like that, the editor sobered up in an instant. Her wife’s tone was saturated with barely concealed anger and it made Miranda dread having to turn around and face the younger woman.

But of course, she couldn’t just ignore her.

Miranda turned slowly in her chair. And there Andrea stood. The brunette was dressed in yoga attire, sporting those little black leggings Miranda loved so much. Really, they were especially flattering on her wife’s figure. However, Miranda couldn’t appreciate the view as well as she’d like. Not right now, anyway.

With one hand place atop her protruding belly and the other perched at the side of her waist, Andrea was clearly angry as she looked down at her wife.

“Oh _wow._ ” Jackie broke the tense silence. She got up (barely managing to not trip over her own two feet) to properly greet Andy. “I’ve seen pictures of you floating around online, but they’ve failed to do you justice. Andy, you’re positively glowing!”

Andrea managed a small (but genuine) smile. “Thank you, Jackie. It’s nice to see you again.” She glared at Miranda, “Even though I wish it were under different circumstances.”

“Seriously, you look good!” The woman beamed, soaking in the momentary awkward silence. She shook her head. “Anyway, I’m going to–” The woman paused to burp into her fist. “S’cuse me. I’m gonna head to the little girls’ room while you chastise this one–” Jackie held Miranda’s shoulder, “–for doing something I’m certain she was in the wrong for.”

 

Once Jackie had left, Andy’s ire returned full-force; and it showed.

Miranda cleared her throat, “Darling…what are you doing here?”

The brunette’s eyes narrowed. “What am _I_ doing here? Don’t you think I should be the one asking _you_ that question, Miranda?” She shook her head then, “Actually, no. Don’t even bother answering. I don’t want to hear anything from you right now since it seems you haven’t been capable of telling the truth about anything recently.”

“Andrea–”

“No!” Andy couldn’t find it in herself to care about the attention she’d drawn by yelling. “Do you know how _stupid_ you made me feel today?”

Miranda got up then, trying to guide her wife to somewhere more private.

“I said **no** , Miranda.” She gritted out, brushing off the older woman. “You’re going to sit down and listen to what I have to say. Because I’m pretty sure you don’t feel nearly as humiliated as I did earlier.”

“Alright…” The editor pulled out Jackie’s vacated seat. She was also sure to keep her composure as she spoke calmly. “But please, will you sit as well? I know your feet must be hurting you.”

Andrea ignored her.

“Do you know that I was the only one there today without a partner?”

Miranda sighed.

It had been a little over a week ago when Andrea had taken an interest in going to Lamaze classes. She’d found a group specifically for people with high profiles and told Miranda that she’d wanted them to go as a couple. The group met up once a week and seeing that they’d missed it the week before, Andy had wanted them both to go today.

However, Miranda was overloaded with work; today more so than usual. She would have been lucky if she’d made it home before midnight because of how chaotic her schedule was today.

Or at least…that’s what she’d told her wife –fifteen minutes _after_ the class had started.

 

“I was there waiting for you and you never showed up.”

A shovel of guilt settled in Miranda’s stomach as Andy’s eyes became glassy.

“I had to sit there by myself for a whole hour watching all the other women be comforted and supported by their partners.” Andrea furiously brushed the tear that tried to make its way down her cheek. “And when you called me, even though I had a bit of a selfish moment and wished _for once_ that you could put me before some busy schedule, I _still_ tried to be understanding.”

Miranda hadn’t broken eye contact with her wife for even a moment. She just sat and listened, not that she would know what to say even if she were permitted to speak.

 “And yes– you’re right. My feet are _killing_ me right now.” Andy sniffled, “But despite all of that, I s _till_ thought of you. I thought of my loving, hard-working wife who was probably too busy to leave the office to even get something to eat.” The brunette forced herself to take a breath, “So – silly me –”, she laughed humorlessly. “I had Roy stop at that little Italian place that you like, and I went by your office to make sure you ate.” Andrea couldn’t stop her tears at this point, “And yet here you are – having a feast!”

Suddenly Emily’s calls made sense.

A choir of whispers filled the room around them. Miranda, not knowing what else to do about the overwhelming guilt and shame she felt, she glanced at the other diners then turned back to her wife. “Must you be so loud?” She said. “And, really, must I tell you about my every whereabout?”

And she regretted it the moment it came from her mouth.

Andrea was in complete disbelief. “Are you serious right now? What the hell have you been drinking?” She stuttered, “To – to find the _gall_ to even say that to me–” The brunette shook her head again. “You know what, look– I know you think the classes are stupid, but I don’t. And as my wife I figured you could be the _least_ bit supportive. Newsflash, Miranda: We _both_ decided to have this baby. We _both_ wanted this baby. So, whether you like going to the classes or not, it’s not _about_ you.”

Andrea paused to take a big, shuddering breath. She rubbed her stomach gently, “It’s for him.” The brunette swallowed more of her tears. “You couldn’t do it for your wife. But the next time you think about lying to me over something that relates to our baby’s well-being, think about what it could mean for your son.”

Miranda fought to swallow the knot of emotion lodged in her throat. She knew that this entire ordeal itself must have caused Andrea a whole lot of stress, and it was all because of her.

“I’m going home.” Andrea sniffled again, “And I _won’t_ be wondering if you died in a ditch somewhere if you don’t get in at your usual time…since you don’t want me knowing about your _“every whereabout”_.”

 The older woman was desperate to find the right words to fix her wrongdoings. But she couldn’t. Her shame had tied her tongue into a rope of knots and her inability to express why she’d reacted the way that she did kept her firmly in her seat. So, she watched Andrea walk away and sat in silence as everyone else in the room hunched over their tables, casting glances in her direction.

 

“Umm, Rindy?” Jackie appeared seemingly out of nowhere, pulling Miranda from her thoughts. The woman’s hair was a mess and a few of her blouse buttons were mismatched. “I know this might be a bad time,” she said. “But uhh…you owe me two thousand dollars.”

 

º

 

By the time Miranda got home all the lights were out in the house.

She paused as she was passing the kitchen to see one of her daughters standing in front of the open fridge, drinking a glass of milk. Puzzled, Miranda asked the teen. “What are you doing up so late?” She could barely make out the girl’s features in the dim light. But seeing as Caroline hadn’t responded to her, Miranda was sure to notice the disapproving look on her daughter’s face. All Caroline did was shake her head, put her empty glass away and left the kitchen wordlessly.

Miranda sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day.

Moving through the living room, she spotted a single pillow and blanket, neatly folded in the center of the couch. She scoffed at the items and made her way upstairs. Her and Andrea’s bedroom was just as dark as the rest of the house, but the wide stream of moonlight that pooled into the room made it easy for her to make out a single lump laying under the covers of their large king-sized bed.

Contrary to what her wife had said back at the restaurant, Miranda knew Andrea would worry herself sick if she stayed out any later than she had tonight. But she also knew that going home immediately after leaving the restaurant wouldn’t have been a good idea. She felt like they both needed time and space. So, she had sent Andrea a text letting her know what time she would be home, but hadn’t gotten anything back in response. Figures.

As Miranda approached their bed her heart fluttered in her chest at the sight of her wife.

Andrea lay on her side, face pressed into the top end of her pregnancy pillow as her hand was undoubtedly resting on her stomach beneath the covers. Her face was free of make-up, her hair spilled like coffee onto the pillows and her pale features were relaxed in her current state. Her chest rose and fell slowly with each breath she took, and her feet poked out from the edge of the large blanket draped over her frame. Miranda seriously didn’t know how she’d gotten so lucky.

The editor took a picture of the sleeping brunette. Then, without even thinking about it, she reached a hand out to brush a lock of hair away from Andy’s face.

“Don’t.”

Miranda nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Andrea’s voice.

Suddenly, her wife turned over (with a little difficulty thanks to her baby bump) to face away from Miranda.

“Couch. Out. Now.”

Miranda’s hand fell at the dismissive tone. Then again, she probably deserved it. After thinking things over, she realized that what she’d done today was wrong in a variety of ways. She should never have lied to Andrea about not being able to make it to the Lamaze class and she certainly shouldn’t have lashed out at the other woman when she’d been less than deserving of it.

Looking at the empty side of the bed, Miranda hated the idea of spending a night on the couch alone downstairs. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it was torturous knowing that her wife and unborn child were asleep in their bed without her. Since she’d become pregnant, Andrea had become especially partial to cuddling before falling asleep. And although Miranda wouldn’t admit it to just anyone, she knew she wouldn’t get much sleep without having her two little spoons to burrow into.

She had to fix this.

After quietly grabbing a clean set of pajamas, she made it towards the guest bathroom, quietly vowing to right her wrongs as soon as the sun came up the following morning.

 

º

 

      “So, Mom…in the dog house again, I see.”

Cassidy was the first one to make it down stairs, lured into the kitchen by the smell of all sorts of breakfast foods. The teen took her place at one end of the kitchen counter, sat on a bar stool. “Don’t you ever learn?” Cassidy asked while looking teasingly at her mother as she bit into a strip of bacon that she’d snatched from one of the many dishes laid out.

      Miranda being Miranda, she denied whatever she was not-so-subtly being accused of. “Good morning to you to, Cassidy. While I have not a single clue of what you are talking about, I’m having a splendid morning, thank you for asking.” Miranda replied sarcastically while prodding a skillet of eggs.

      Cassidy rolled her eyes in good nature, “How was the couch last night? Sleep good?”

      The editor shot her daughter a sharp look, “I’d be quiet if I were you.” The woman smiled, “Unless you _don’t_ want that new iPhone.”

      Cassidy’s teasing smile fell. She grumbled to herself and moved to grab a plate of pancakes.

      “Don’t touch the blueberry ones. They’re for Andrea.”

      “But she doesn’t even like blueberries!”

      “Her recent cravings would say otherwise.” Miranda slapped Cassidy’s hand away from the stack of pancakes.

      “ _Ughh!_ What’s with all the yelling??” Caroline groaned as she stepped into the kitchen.

      Cassidy looked to her twin, “Mom’s just mad because she’s in the dog house.”

      “I am **not** in any _‘dog house’_.” Miranda exclaimed.

      Caroline scoffed, dragging her feet as she made her way further into the kitchen. “Pfft. Mom, you’re _so_ in the dog house,” she said while simply grabbing a box of cereal. Her wild orange hair was poking about in every single direction.

       “What are you doing home anyway?” Caroline turned to her mother, grumpily munching on a spoon of Cheerios.

      “I took the day off.”

      And those five words alone made Cassidy theatrically gasp from her end of the counter. “I didn’t think you were capable of such a thing,” she held her hand to her chest in disbelief.

      Miranda frowned, “Quit being dramatic.” The woman knew she was a workaholic but, seriously? She didn’t work _all_ the time. Did she?

      She hadn’t had much time to dwell on the thought as Andrea was just making her way down the stairs. And – _oh my_.

Her wife was wearing a champagne nightie that rose considerably because of her belly. The hem of the silk fabric fell just to the tops of Andy’s thighs. But seeing as it was a bit cold in the house, the brunette had taken to draping Miranda’s thick robe around her shoulders. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and she wore the look of someone who had a goodnight’s rest. If the girls weren’t around and if Andrea wasn’t currently upset with her, the editor could easily think up a number of ways to put their kitchen island to better use.

“Morning girls,” the brunette smiled sweetly towards Cassidy and Caroline, totally disregarding Miranda.

      “Morning Andy!” The twins answered brightly in unison.

      Her wife swept pass her without a sparing glance, also overlooking the big apology-breakfast Miranda had prepared.

      Miranda cleared her throat, trying to ignore the small bit of hurt she felt over the situation. “Good morning, Darling.” She tried to get Andy to acknowledge her.

      The brunette merely hummed at her, burying her face in the fridge instead.

      “I made you breakfast…” Miranda pointed to the vast assortment of food on the counter.

      Andrea then pulled her face from the fridge, closing the door with a carton of milk at hand. “I’m sorry, what?” She barely looked at the home-made buffet. “Oh. I think I’m just going to go with what Caroline’s having.”

      At that, Miranda considered all the work she’d done to make breakfast. Really. She’d made _a lot_ of food. Just so Andrea could have options. “But you need to eat something solid,” Miranda stressed while looking at Andy’s stomach. “Surely a bowl of sugar and milk won’t be sufficient.” She tried to reason with her wife.

      Andrea settled on the bench at the little breakfast nook near the windows. “ _Yeeaah_ , no. I don’t feel like I’d be able to keep down anything heavier than this.” She gave Miranda a fake smile.

      The editor frowned, “Have you been feeling nauseous again?”

      “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

      Miranda sighed.

      “ ** _Woof, woof, woof!_** ”

She shot a glare at Cassidy who started to make barking noises behind them. The girl burst into quiet laughter but hushed immediately at the look her mother gave her.

At the breakfast nook, Miranda leaned in closer to her wife. “Andrea…please.” She sighed again. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Andy continued eating her bowl of cereal, ignoring her wife completely.

“I was wrong for what I did, and I know I should have talked to you about what was going on but I…I didn’t know how to bring it up. Something has been bothering me lately and I wasn’t sure how to address what I was feeling.”

That gave Andy pause, “Wait – you’re not having any regrets, are you?” The brunette subconsciously reached for her stomach, finally looking up at Miranda.

“What?” Miranda shook her head. “No! Of course not. _Never._ ”

Her firm assurance made Andy breathe a small sigh of relief. “Okay.” Andy nodded slowly. “I’ll be honest and say that you were a total idiot for what you did yesterday and while I would like to talk about why you did what you did, I’m not ready to do so right now.”

“That’s fair.” Miranda replied, “But we will talk about it?”

“When I’m ready. Yes, we will.”

“Alright, then.” The editor bit her lip and reached a hand out towards Andy’s baby bump, only for her wife to slap her hand away.

“Don’t disturb him.” Andy said after she swallowed another spoonful of Cheerios. “He’s mad at you right now, too.”   

 

º

 

      Later that afternoon, Miranda was sat in her study when the sound of their doorbell went off throughout the house. She was clueless as to who it might be but found out soon enough when she entered the foyer a minute later.

      “Christian!” Andrea had opened the door and was currently caught in a hug with a tall, blonde man who appeared to have fallen from a Calvin Klein magazine cover.

      “I’m so glad you could come by on such short notice.” The brunette beamed up at the man.

      Miranda folded her arms as she watched the two from her spot at the foot of the stairs.

      The blonde man grinned just the same, hugging Andrea tightly. “I wasn’t sure I had the right house,” he laughed, looking down at her. “Look at you!” He reached out for her tummy. “May I?”

      Miranda frowned, _you most certainly may not._

      “Yeah, sure!” Andrea giggled, “Go ahead.”

      Miranda fumed where she stood. _Who does this man think he is? Touching **her** wife, **her** baby. _Meanwhile, just this morning Andy wouldn’t even let her come close. Whoever this _Christian_ was, Miranda didn’t need to know much more to come to the simple conclusion that she didn’t like this man at all.

      “Darling,” The editor put on her most plastic smile as she stepped forward, “Who’s this?” She looked the man up and down as though he were something to be flushed down the toilet. Then, Miranda not-so-subtly pulled Andrea away from his grasp by snaking her arm around her wife’s waist.

      Andrea cleared her throat and shot Miranda a look as if to say _be nice_ , “This is Christian. Christian, this is my wife Miranda.” The brunette turned to the editor, “Christian and I met through mutual friends about a little over year ago. We fell out of touch for a bit but bumped into each other the other day.”

      Christian held his hand out and smiled his stupid Colgate-commercial smile, “It’s nice to meet you in person, Miranda. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

      Miranda merely looked at his hand and replied with a short, uninterested, “Yes. It must be.”

      He dropped his hand and rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. He turned back to Andy, “Yeah, I’m sorry I was in such a rush the other day! I would have loved to catch up over coffee or something.” He told her.

      Andrea pulled away from Miranda, smiling apologetically at Christian for Miranda’s cold behavior. “Don’t worry about it.” She smiled kindly, “I’m just glad we got to exchange numbers.” She said, “I would have just called an electrician to come over, but you offered and of course I was going to take advantage of that.”

      They both laughed and the sound brought a sour expression to Miranda’s face.

      “Right, well, I’m happy to be taken advantage of.” Christian laughed again, “I’m just going to get my bag from my car. Is it okay that I parked near the sidewalk?”

      Andy nodded, “Yeah that’s fine.”

      “Okay.” He smiled, “Be right back.”

      Andrea’s smile only fell until after he slipped back outside. “What the hell was that?” She turned to her wife with a glare.

      Miranda ignored Andrea’s question, “Who is that man, Andrea? And why is he here?”

      The brunette rolled her eyes, “He’s a friend and he’s here to help me with the nursery.”

      “Excuse me?” Miranda raised a brow.

      Andrea shook her head in exasperation. “Why were you so rude just now?”

      The older woman huffed, “Pardon me for not being a fan of watching some _stranger_ put his hands all over you.”

      “He’s just a _friend_ Miranda. An old friend of mine that you were incredibly rude towards for no good reason at all.”

 

      She tried, she really did. But Miranda couldn’t find it in herself to think logically at the moment. Feelings and thoughts that she’d been trying to suppress ever since they found out Andrea was pregnant made it impossible for her to reason with the situation at hand.

“He shouldn’t be here.” Miranda gritted out. “I took the day off to spend it with _you_.”

      “Oh, really? By being in your study?” The brunette scoffed. “And where were you yesterday, hm? When I could have really used your time and attention.”

      Miranda was struggling to keep her composure at this point. “From this morning you wouldn’t acknowledge me for even a second! You told me you weren’t ready to speak with me, so I was simply waiting for you to come around. And why are you having him play any part in putting together _our_ child’s nursery?” Jealousy radiated off Miranda in waves.

      Andrea folded her arms with a raised brow, “Do you have any idea how to run a wire?”

      Miranda’s arms fell at her side. _Of course she didn’t know how to run a bloody wire._ She sighed, “Andrea, I don’t wish to argue with you. I’ve already apologized for what I did yesterday and told you that I’d like to talk about what happened. This senseless back and forth will get us nowhere and you know that.” She frowned. “You’re still upset with me. I understand that. So, again, whenever you’re ready to talk…you know where to find me.”

      She had left the brunette in the foyer and for the full two hours that Miranda had spent closed away in her study, she endured the torture of her wife being just a few rooms away; chatting it up with _Christian_.

      Well, at least there goes one less baby name to consider.

 

º

 

The sun had set long ago and at the end of the day, Miranda was displeased to say that today hadn’t went nearly as well as she’d planned. Now, propped up against the headboard in their bed, Miranda was sifting through emails when her wife came into their room, fresh from out of the shower. Andy was dressed in another silk nightie (black this time) and her hair was slightly damp as she sat on the edge of Miranda’s side of the bed.

“Hey,” her voice came out soft and was void of any kind of hostility.  

      Miranda immediately put her phone to the side. She took a moment to take in the sight of Andrea.

**_God_ ** _, her wife was beautiful._

“You never fail to remind me.” Andy gave her a small smile and Miranda only realized then that she’d spoken out loud.

“Are you ready to talk now?”

At that, the brunette looked suddenly apprehensive, “Yes and no.”

“Alright.” Miranda took a breath, “Could you tell me what you’re thinking right now?”

Andy sighed. “I’m thinking _‘yes’_ because I want you to be open and honest with me. I’d like to know what’s been bothering you, and I’d like for you to feel comfortable enough to share it with me.” Andy paused as she thought over her next words, “But…since you felt the need to lie to me in the first place, it’s only had me imagine the worst. We don’t lie to each other Miranda. So, how am I supposed to know if you’ll tell me the truth here tonight?”

Miranda cursed herself for breaking her wife’s trust in her word. She took a deep breath, “Could you come up in the bed, please?” She felt like she needed to be close to Andy. And with Miranda’s help, she was glad that the brunette hadn’t put up a fuss about it as Andrea made her way up to sit comfortably beside the other woman.

The editor turned to face her, reaching out to rest her hands on her wife’s stomach as she did. “When I told you earlier that I hadn’t had any regrets about this I was not lying. I would love nothing more than to have this baby with you, Andrea.”

“So, what is it then?” Andy pressed for the truth, fidgeting with the hem of the blanket. “Why did you lie to me about not being able to make it to the Lamaze class?”

Miranda sighed. She removed her glasses to place them on the nightstand as it took every ounce of confidence she had to simply say, “I was afraid.”

And really, something physically _rippled_ inside her chest just for her to get the words out. Because Miranda Priestly had lived the better part of her life striking the fear of God in men. She was always the one to instill fear in others, never was she the recipient of such a feeling. No, ‘fear’ was a foreign term in her vocabulary altogether.

Yet, here she was. “I’m still afraid,” she admitted. And this time was no easier than the first.  

Andy reached gently for her wife’s jaw, forcing the older woman to look at her. “What are you afraid of?” She asked.

And while staring into Andy’s big brown eyes, Miranda struggled to express her feelings in a way that wouldn’t make her sound weak or pathetic.

But how was she to do that while admitting to being unsettled by (more than likely) being the oldest one to attend the class?

Because it was true.

Miranda was disturbed by the thought of being surrounded by a circle of young, first-time parents who would be secretly judging her and Andrea’s relationship. But more than that, she hated how much she cared about what others would think of her having a child at her age; especially considering it was with someone far much younger than she was.

Now, she and Andrea’s age difference had never been a determining factor of whether they’d be together indefinitely. It was never a question. They both knew (without it ever being said) that they would get married at some point. Really, nothing more made sense to Miranda, and she was sure Andrea felt the same. But in a world such as theirs, not everyone would be understanding or, far less, _accepting_ of their relationship.

And now a baby was involved.

“Hey,” Andrea grabbed her wife’s hand. “It’ll be okay. Okay? Whatever you’re feeling, we can work through it together, alright? Just be honest with me.”

“Alright.” Miranda nodded and cleared her throat. “My apprehensions…are all about what will come _after_ the baby is born.” She forced herself to keep going lest she lose her courage. “I fear that I won’t even make it to our son’s high-school graduation because at that point I’ll probably be dead. And even if I do make it that far, I fear his peers will at some point mistake me for his grandmother. I have illogical thoughts like: Suppose I have a heart attack before he can learn how to walk? And, suppose I end up bed-ridden and you’re forced to raise our son alone?”

Andrea frowned, “Miranda, you’re forty-eight, not eighty-eight. Plus, you’re in better health than anyone else I know. Seriously, you could outrun a cheetah in five-inch heels if it came to it. Meanwhile, I can barely _walk_ in five-inch heels, let alone run in them.” The brunette seemed puzzled, “Why are you thinking like this?”

 

 Miranda’s thumb caressed the back of her wife’s hand. “Because, darling –while you wear black better than the night itself, I don’t want you planning a funeral with a baby strapped to your hip. I don’t want you planning a funeral at all. But these things happen…and my mind can’t help but wonder.”

Andrea was quiet for a while as she took in everything that was said, “How long have you been feeling this way?”

“A few days after the doctor confirmed that you were pregnant…”

“You should have told me this from then.” Andy’s voice kept its soft tone.

Miranda looked away, “It wasn’t this bad then. I didn’t want to have you worry over nothing. It was simply a fleeting thought here and there –but now, with the baby coming soon, I’ve been…concerned. I just want to be perfect for you two. I want you two and the girls to be as happy as can be.”

Andy studied her face until realization dawned on her.

“You were afraid about what the others would think of you at the Lamaze class. Weren’t you?”

Miranda’s first instinct was to deny it, but she reminded herself that lying was what got her here in the first place.

“…yes.”

“And is this also why you’ve been against having a baby shower?”

The editor sighed, “…yes.”

From the moment the twins had expressed an interest in helping Andrea put together a baby shower, Miranda had quickly shut the idea down.

_“There will be no baby shower,”_ she’d said firmly over breakfast one morning. _“We have all the money we could possibly need to buy all of the necessities ourselves. There’s no need for a shower.”_ And though she hadn’t missed her daughters’ quiet whispers of _“buzzkill”_ and _“killjoy”_ , she’d certainly missed the disappointed look in her wife’s eyes at her adamant declaration.

“Do you think I’m ashamed of you? Ashamed to be with you?”

Miranda was taken aback by the question and her tone said as much, “…no?”

Andrea frowned at her, “You don’t sound so sure.”

Miranda shook her head, more resolutely this time. “No. Of course not.”

Then, slowly, the brunette brought herself to sit in her wife’s lap, her thighs separated on each side of Miranda’s. “So, why would you think that you aren’t already perfect as it is for me?” Andrea looked her directly in the eyes while pulling the woman’s hands to her stomach, “For us.”

“I…” Miranda’s mouth fell shut. She didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Honey, for years people thought that I was with you for your money and status,” Andrea caressed her cheek. “But we both know that’s far from the truth, don’t we? I’ve already heard the worst of what they’ve had to say…and I’m not worried about any of it.” Andrea leaned forward, pressing her forehead against her wife’s. “People are stupid,” she whispered, gently pressing her lips to Miranda’s. “You should know that better than anyone else.”

As comforting and sweet as the affection was, Miranda still found it hard to get on board with her wife’s nonchalant attitude. She sighed, wrapping her arms around the brunette’s waist. “Yes, but this is different.” She said, “This is about the baby.”

“No,” Andy looked at her intently, “This is about your insecurities. Our baby will know nothing but love from the moment he’s born and in return he’s going to love you no matter what the headlines say.” The brunette’s tone left no room for argument. “And you’re going to be there for all of the important milestones in his life; from his first steps straight up until we watch him walk up to receive his diploma.”

Miranda wanted to protest –because it wasn’t _logical_ to think in the way that came so naturally to her wife. Life was never so compliant for her to believe that everything would work in their favor just because they willed it so. Really, she just wanted to keep the baby to themselves. She wanted to hide him away from the ugly judgements of the world and raise her son with her wife in peace, away from the media. Yes. They could always have him home-schooled when the time came for it, she thought.

The editor was pulled from her thoughts by Andrea’s quiet laughter. “We can’t just lock him away in the house, Miranda.”

The editor scoffed, “Says who?” Seriously, she was becoming annoyed at her inability to keep her thoughts to herself.

Her wife rolled her eyes, “He’s going to have to interact with others at some point. We can’t protect him from _everything_ , no matter what we do.” The brunette clasped her hands at the back of Miranda’s neck. She played with the short tail of silver hair there and it made Miranda hum in delight.

Yet another thing she wouldn’t admit to just anyone: she loved when Andy played with her hair.

Andrea smiled at her wife. Miranda seemed more like a cat purring under the attention of its owner. “You know, if you’re really uncomfortable doing the Lamaze classes around other people, maybe we could look into a private instructor and have sessions right here at the house.”

      The suggestion barely registered with Miranda, too caught up in the simple pleasure of having Andy’s hands caressing the back of her head. She barely thought it over, “That wouldn’t be…” Her eyes fell shut with a shuddering sigh. “I suppose that wouldn’t be a horrible idea…”

      Andrea’s smile broke out into a full-blown grin gazing at the woman before her. “You’re so adorable when you get like this. I love it.” She told her with sparkling eyes, “I love _you_.”

      Miranda’s eyes opened slowly…and Jackie was right. Andrea was a literal ray of sunshine sitting in her lap. Miranda held her closer, whispering in the short space between them. “If I were to pass away at any point in the near future, I want you to know that I’d be okay with you re-marrying.”

      Miranda’s not sure what made her say it, but she meant it, surprisingly. While it was absolutely revolting – the idea of someone having Andrea in a way that was preserved for her and her alone– she also didn’t want for her wife to ever know a life without love. When that time came, because Miranda was sure it would, she didn’t want Andrea to feel wrong about being with somebody that wasn’t her. Maybe she would end up with someone her own age the second time around. Maybe they wouldn’t lead such a complicated life as she did.

      Andrea’s grin had crumbled into a look of mild frustration. “I just told you that I love you…and you’re talking as though you’re about to die tomorrow.” Suddenly, Andy’s eyes widened and she pulled away in horror, gasping as she covered her mouth with both hands. “Wait, are you sick? _Don’t_ lie to me, Miranda. You’re sick, aren’t you? What is it? Cancer? Why – ”

      “What? Andrea, _no_.” She held her wife tighter, trying to assuage her fears. “I’m most definitely _not_ sick.”   

      The brunette didn’t seem to believe her. Her eyes had already turned glassy at the possibility. “You’re not?”

      “I promise you, darling. I’m fine.”

      “Then why do you keep bringing up…” Andrea couldn’t seem to bring herself to finish whatever she was thinking.

      Miranda sighed, “I just wanted you to know that, seeing that I’m older between the two of us, it’s likely that I’ll pass away before you do. I’m simply giving you consent to re-marry, guilt free. Although I don’t doubt your love for me, I also know that our relationship isn’t the most ideal–”

      “Shut up.”

      Miranda frowned at her wife. “All I’m saying is–”

      “ _Shut up_ , Miranda. Just – shut up.” Andrea shook her head staring at her wife. “You don’t get it, do you?”

      And at Miranda’s look of confusion, Andy was intent on clarifying the situation for her. She pulled Miranda by the jaw and caught her wife’s lips in a bruising kiss. She’d lost her fingers in a head of silver hair and moaned in absolute pleasure as her wife knew just how to give as good as she got. She met Andy’s prodding tongue with her own and swallowed every sinful whimper that spilled from the brunette’s lips.

      Andy was the one to pull away, and when she did, she’d looked dazed; like she’d just downed a bottle of whiskey all by herself.

 “I don’t want to be with anybody else.”

She said it with so much conviction, and Miranda was still overcome with the intensity of the kiss that she couldn’t find it in herself to respond.

“I don’t want to be with _anybody else_.” Andy repeated herself as if forcing Miranda to hear her. “Can’t you see that?” She brushed the pad of her thumb across Miranda’s bottom lip. “Wearing this ring isn’t something I take lightly.” She said, “I married you because you’re the only one I want. You’re the only one I’d ever want to have hold me at night. And you’re the only one I’d ever want to carry children for…” Then, Andrea took Miranda’s hands and slid them up her thighs.

Miranda’s head was spinning like a top by the time Andrea pulled the hem of her nightie up to her waist and slipped one of her wife’s hands pass the curve of her belly, into her panties. “And you’re the only one that can do this to me.” Andy bit her lip. “Do you feel what you do to me, Miranda? Do you feel how you’ve ruined me for anyone else?”

Miranda nearly choked on her own tongue at her wife’s words combined with the feeling of the warm slick that coated her fingers.

Andy brought her lips to the shell of Miranda’s ears. “Do you know how many times I’ve touched myself to thoughts of you while waiting for you to come home?” She whispered, nibbling at Miranda’s earlobe.

And, really? It wasn’t hard for Miranda to picture at all.

She could easily see her wife getting off to the thought of her.

Maybe she’d be in the bathtub; creamy white thighs splayed apart, round tummy poking up out of the water with her slippery hands between her legs…desperately wishing Miranda would come home – even if only to make her come hard enough for her to fall asleep. That way, when Andy woke back up, her wife would finally be off from work and they could go at it all over again.  

Andy pressed her lips to her jaw, trailing her way back to the older woman’s mouth. She looked her directly in the eyes as she’d said, “I don’t think about anyone else like that. You’re _it_ for me, Miranda. The hell with anyone else you _think_ can please me better than you can.”

And _god,_ Miranda just wanted to lose her tongue in the part of Andrea that no one besides her got to see.

So, she did.

All night long they’d put every inch of their bed to the best use. And by the end of it, Miranda was pleasantly nestled into her wife from behind.

 Andy was still panting lightly in her exhaustion, yet she still managed to find the strength to say: “And by the way, tomorrow you’re going to call Jackie and tell her the _truth_ about who “pursued” who. Because you know very well that you were the one that “persisted” anything that happened between us.”

Miranda didn’t even have it in herself to deny it. “Okay,” she contentedly exhaled into Andrea’s neck, too satisfied for words.

“Hey!” Her wife laughed and tried to pull away. “That tickles.”

Miranda smiled a wide, sleepy smile and burrowed further into her little spoon.

And Andy yelped as in a rare moment of playfulness, Miranda purposely tried to tickle her again.

“Miranda, stop!” Andy squirmed in her hold.

This went on for about three minutes until–  

“ _Mooom!_ ” Cassidy’s voice reverberated all through the house. “Quit being gross, I’m trying to sleep!”

Miranda grinned. “Well, I suppose someone will be in for a treat the second her little brother is up screaming all through the night.”

 

º

 


End file.
